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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638048">as though across a dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary'>ghostinthelibrary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>hear the cannons calling [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle of Sodden Hill, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Found Family, M/M, POV Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pining, Pre-Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, Pre-OT3, Timeline What Timeline, Yennefer only thinks she has the brain cell, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:28:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostinthelibrary/pseuds/ghostinthelibrary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nilfgaard marches on Cintra, Yennefer goes in search of Geralt, knowing her former lover will be in the line of fire. When she finds him, their reunion isn’t what she’s expecting, because her witcher seems to have acquired a bard.</p><p>Or, a companion piece to <em>hear the cannons calling</em> from Yennefer’s point of view.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>hear the cannons calling [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>237</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>as though across a dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to dls for betaing!</p><p>So, this isn’t the sequel to <em>hear the cannons calling</em> that I promised by the end of the summer. That sequel is still happening, hopefully sometime this fall. But I’ve found myself a bit creatively sapped over the last few months and I realized that actively writing and publishing two long fics at a time just wasn’t working for me. So I am (slowly) working on it, but it will still probably be a while. I apologize for the wait and hope you will all still be interested in a few months’ time.</p><p>Also a note on the timeline— in this AU, Yennefer and Geralt have not seen each other for about a decade when Cintra falls. They were in a relationship for about five years before their mountaintop breakup. It’s not even remotely canon-compliant, but that’s why I write AUs.</p><p>Title is from "Elsa's Song" by The Amazing Devil.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yennefer doesn’t know exactly when she fell in love with Geralt of Rivia. </p><p>Maybe it was when he showed up in the middle of the orgy she was hosting, bleary-eyed and desperate, heedless of the writhing bodies around him as he told her of the stupid wish he had made to a djinn— for rest of all things— and the djinn’s attempts to send him to a very permanent rest. </p><p>Maybe it was when the mayor’s house started to collapse around them and his first instinct was to throw himself on top of her. It had been a long time since anyone thought she was worth protecting.</p><p>Maybe it was when he fell asleep next to her after they fucked, letting his guard down entirely, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Asleep, he looked like any other man, not a fearsome witcher. He even drooled a little.</p><p>Maybe it was when he sought her out after Rinde, in some shithole little village in the far north. Not because he needed something from her, but simply because he wanted to see her.</p><p>Or maybe it was when he wished not to lose her and bound their fates together permanently. Maybe she never really loved him. Maybe it was only a stupid, thoughtless wish made by a stupid, thoughtless man.</p><p>Yennefer knows the exact moment she fell out of love with Geralt of Rivia. </p><p>They were standing on top of a mountain. The sky was a luminous blue that didn’t match the bitter cold of the wind and there was a dragon standing there, wearing an expression of infuriating gentleness as he said, “I’m going to save you both a lot of hurt with a little pain now. The sorceress will never regain her womb. And though you don’t want to lose her, Geralt, you will.”</p><p>It would be easier if Borch were cruel. But he wasn’t even speaking to Yennefer; his attention was solely focused on Geralt. Like Geralt was the one who had  just been betrayed. Like Geralt was the one who found out that the last five years of his life had been a lie. For his part, Geralt could only look at Yennefer, his expression utterly wrecked. He didn’t deserve to look that devastated, not when he was the one who had done this to them.</p><p>She felt her chin tremble. She would not cry— not in front of the dragon, not in front of the dwarves, not in front of what’s left of the reavers, not in front of whoever Tea and Vea were, and certainly not in front of Geralt. “He already has,” was all she said before she portaled away.</p><p>She must have fallen out of love with Geralt, she tells herself later. Love can not possibly coexist with this knot of hatred and hurt in her chest.</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t much care about Nilfgaard’s brutal march north at first. What does it matter which cruel, despotic man sits on the throne? Awful things are said about the emperor of Nilfgaard, but the King of Lyria who had his young wife and infant babe slaughtered is widely considered one of the wisest and fairest rulers in recent history. People tell themselves the story they want to hear, and bloodthirsty killers coming from the south to burn the world makes for a hell of a story.</p><p>But as more kingdoms fall to Nilfgaard and more people die, Yennefer begins to pay attention. This isn’t an invasion; it’s slaughter. She feels no loyalty to the Northern Kingdoms, but there are innocents in Nilfgaard’s path and after coming across yet another village burnt to ash, she finds she can no longer ignore the destruction.</p><p>When Vilgefortz comes to recruit her to help convince the Brotherhood to stop Nilfgaard's invasion of Cintra, she tells him, “I have business I need to take care of first.”</p><p>Because if Nilfgaard is heading for Cintra, she knows that Geralt will be as well. He’s spent twelve years denying the Law of Surprise, but he wouldn’t leave his child surprise to perish at Nilfgaard’s hands. And Yennefer doesn’t know if it’s the pull of the djinn wish or just some leftover sentimentality, but she can’t allow Geralt to become collateral damage in the upcoming war.</p><p>“Something more important than the fate of the Continent?” Vilgefortz asks.</p><p>Absurdly, Yennefer thinks of Geralt, sleeping soundly in the middle of that ruined house in Rinde. “Yes.”</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t manage to track Geralt down until a week after Cintra’s fall. When she finds him, he’s bleeding to death on the side of the road with a knife sticking out of the side of his neck. At first, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to save him. She kneels at his side, hands slick with his blood, and is furious, because if she’s going to be magically bound to care about this man, then he should at least have the good sense to live.</p><p>“You will not die on me, Geralt,” she keeps telling him. “Do you understand me? You will not die.”</p><p>And somehow, Geralt doesn’t. She portals him back to the abandoned farmhouse she’s occupying in Sodden. With the witcher stabilized by healing magic, there’s nothing to do but wash the blood off her hands, change her dress, and wait for him to wake up. She only watches him to make sure he doesn’t die on her. She doesn’t catalog the new scars he’s gained since the last time she saw him, the furrow in his brow that never seems to go away, the stubble on his jaw.</p><p>She doesn’t think about Rinde.</p><p>When he wakes up and those golden eyes fall on her, she schools her face into a neutral expression. “You’re awake.”</p><p>“Where are we?” His voice is a croak.</p><p>“A farmhouse, outside of Sodden. The occupants must have evacuated. Nilfgaard is invading Sodden next. A group of us from Aretuza are gathering at Sodden Hill to try and hold them off, but I had to find you first.”</p><p>His gaze follows her as she rises to her feet. “Why?”</p><p>This stupid, stupid man. She wants to shake him. “I told you, Geralt, I don’t want you dead.”</p><p>“Would be a good way to take care of the djinn wish.” His lips twitch.</p><p>“Don’t joke about that,” she snarls, and is gratified when he winces.</p><p>“Sorry, Yenn.”</p><p>It’s been a decade since anyone called her Yenn. It’s been a decade since anyone said her name in that soft, almost reverent tone. Fuck, this was a mistake. “I tracked you all over Cintra, but I always seemed to just miss you. Finally, I caught your trail in a burnt out Cintran refugee camp. If I’d been a moment later, you would have bled out.”</p><p>He closes his eyes. “Thank you.”</p><p>Yennefer forces her tone to sound light and airy. “Geralt, was that genuine appreciation right after a sincere apology? Who’s been teaching you manners?”</p><p>“Jaskier.” And there’s something in his voice when he says that name, something she doesn’t like.</p><p>“Who’s Jaskier?” she asks casually.</p><p>“A bard I met in Cintra.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then his eyes fly open and he starts to sit up, suddenly frantic about the bard, a princess, a doppler, and Brokilon Forest.</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t know what she expected from Geralt after a decade apart. Certainly not a tearful reunion— that wouldn’t be either of their styles. But she wasn’t expecting to have to try and talk him out of going to Brokilon Forest to try and save his child surprise and a bard from a doppler. She tries to get him back into bed, but Geralt is insistent. There’s no way he’s in a fit state to take on anything deadlier than a house cat, so Yennefer has no choice but to accompany him.</p><p>She will see Geralt and his child surprise safe, and then she’ll meet her fellow mages at Sodden Hill. And if she has any luck at all, she’ll never see Geralt of Rivia again.</p><p>***</p><p>The scream that rips through the woods outside of Brokilon Forest is pure chaos. Yennefer can feel the surge of power dancing over her skin. All around her and Geralt, leaves rustle and birds take flight.</p><p>“What was that?” Yennefer demands, but Geralt doesn’t answer. He’s sprinting in the direction of the scream. She shouts after him, because the idiot is injured and shouldn’t be running like that, but he ignores her. With a grumbled curse, she hikes up her skirt and runs after him. They crash through the woods, with Yennefer barely being able to keep up with Geralt enough to keep him in her line of sight, until she decides she’s had quite enough of this and opens a portal.</p><p>She appears in front of him, hoping he doesn’t notice how heavily she’s breathing. “Now would be a good time to tell me what’s going on, Geralt.”</p><p>“No time,” he grunts.</p><p>She grits her teeth. “Geralt, did you feel the magic in that scream? That was raw chaos.”</p><p>He opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted when two children come running out of the woods. One’s a young girl with long blond hair, while the other one is a lanky boy in a red hat. The girl throws herself into Geralt’s arms without hesitation while the boy hangs back, looking between Yennefer and Geralt with trepidation clear on his face. The girl is babbling about the doppler and Jaskier, obviously frantic. To Yennefer’s surprise, when Geralt turns to face her, his eyes are filled with barely suppressed panic.</p><p>“Stay with them,” he tells her, then takes off again through the woods before she can protest. Yennefer finds herself facing the two children.</p><p>Geralt’s child surprise stares up at Yennefer with obvious suspicion. “Who are you?”</p><p>Yennefer met Queen Calanthe decades ago, when she was still at the king of Aedirn’s court. The girl doesn’t physically resemble her grandmother much, though Yennefer sees a bit of Calanthe in the green of her eyes and the strength of her jawline. But the expression on her face right now is pure Calanthe. “I’m Yennefer of Vengerberg.  I’m Geralt’s— I know Geralt. And you’re Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Who is your friend?”</p><p>“I’m Dara,” the boy says quietly. He’s holding his wrist close to him. It’s obviously injured; Yennefer will have to take a look at it once they’re somewhere safe.</p><p>Cirilla gives her an assessing look. “You have purple eyes.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Are you a sorceress?” The girl’s eyes narrow. Clearly, she inherited her suspicion of magic from her grandmother. Which is rich, given that Yennefer is fairly certain Cirilla is the one with the chaos-filled scream.</p><p>“I am,” Yennefer says.</p><p>“Can you help Jaskier?”</p><p>“If he needs to be saved from a doppler, that’s more Geralt’s forte than mine.”</p><p>Cirilla lifts her chin imperiously. “We can’t just let him die.”</p><p>“Geralt won’t let that happen.” If the way Geralt rushed off, swords at the ready, was any indication, the doppler is probably already dead. Dopplers aren’t especially dangerous creatures; this one should be no match for a witcher.</p><p>But before she can tell Cirilla that, the princess has already turned to stride in the same direction as Geralt. Dara gives Yennefer a look as if to say, <em>“Yes, this happens all the time and no, I don’t know how to stop her.”</em> Yennefer could stop the girl, but the danger has most likely already passed. She follows Cirilla, a spell at the ready in case she needs to blast anything dangerous that comes too close. With a muttered curse, Dara trails after them.</p><p>The doppler is already dead by the time they find Geralt and Jaskier. As soon as Yennefer sees Geralt with the bard, she knows that if they aren’t lovers yet, they will be soon. She can see it in the way Jaskier leans into Geralt, looking up at him with blue eyes full of adoration. She can see it in the way Geralt cradles Jaskier against him, his expression hopelessly fond. They’re both heedless of the dead doppler at their feet. Geralt doesn’t even notice Yennefer approaching with the two children. Geralt, who can hear a rabbit’s heartbeat a quarter mile away, is so absorbed in making sure that his bard is okay that he doesn’t realize she’s there until she speaks.</p><p>If Yennefer still loved him, she would think that the sour feeling that curdles in her gut was jealousy.</p><p>She portals Geralt, Jaskier, Ciri, and Dara back to the farmhouse to heal their wounds. Jaskier has a severe concussion. Geralt is practically attached to his side as she works, fussing over his bard’s injuries. Finally, she snaps at him to give her some damn space and he retreats from Jaskier’s bedside, looking sheepish.</p><p>Jaskier gazes up at her blearily, eyes unfocused. He really is a pretty thing, all thick dark hair, wide blue eyes, and porcelain skin. He’s old enough to have a copious amount of chest hair peeking over the neckline of his chemise, but young enough that he still has a soft, round baby face. She doubts he’s any older than twenty-five. When she notices him eyeing her speculatively, she rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Bardling, I could make your brain bleed out of your eyes with a thought,” she tells him with a menacing smile. “Put your eyeballs back in your head.”</p><p>His gazes snaps to Geralt, like he really thinks the witcher could protect him. Geralt just looks at her sternly. With a sigh, Yennefer places her fingers against Jaskier’s forehead and puts him in a healing sleep.</p><p>“What did you do?” Geralt snaps.</p><p>“Fuck’s sake, Geralt, I just put him to sleep long enough that I can heal him without having him drool over my breasts. I’m not going to murder your lover out of spite, no matter what you might think of me. You aren’t worth that.”</p><p>Geralt looks away. “He’s not my lover. He’s… It’s… Will he be okay?”</p><p>Despite herself, Yennefer can feel herself softening. “He’ll live.”</p><p>Geralt nods, gaze painfully tender as it’s focused on the bard. “Thank you, Yenn.”</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t grace that with a reply, instead focusing on healing the bard’s concussion and the bruise on his forehead for good measure. As soon as she steps back from the bed, Geralt goes to sit next to his bard, eyes never leaving the boy’s face. Rolling her eyes, Yennefer goes to check on Ciri and Dara. She finds them sitting on the two long, narrow beds in the second bedroom. They both jump and look up as she enters.</p><p>“Is Jaskier okay?” Ciri asks.</p><p>“He’ll wake up soon with nothing more than a headache.” Yennefer notices that Dara is still holding his wrist. “Dara, is your wrist injured?”</p><p>He grimaces. “It’s not bad.”</p><p>“But it is injured.”</p><p>He nods.</p><p>Ciri gives him a wide-eyed look. “Did that happen when I screamed?”</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault Ciri,” Dara says quickly. “You were trying to save Jaskier.”</p><p>“I can help.” Yennefer sits down next to him and holds out her hand. Dara hesitates, then places his wrist in her palm. It’s only a minor sprain; it hardly takes Yennefer any effort to heal it. When she’s done, she turns to Ciri. “You were limping earlier. Let me look at your feet.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>Marvelous, she’s known Geralt for all of an hour and she’s already taking after him. “Take off your boots,” Yennefer tells her firmly.</p><p>The girl hesitates, then complies. Yennefer has to struggle to keep her face impassive when she sees how battered and bloodied the girl’s feet are. Every step must have been agony when she was fleeing from the doppler. Yennefer kneels in front of her, ignoring the princess’s flinch when Yennefer places a hand on her ankle.</p><p>“My grandmother always said mages couldn’t be trusted,” Ciri says softly. It sounds more like a question than an accusation.</p><p>“A lot of people said the same thing about your grandmother.”</p><p>“Yennefer.” For the first time, she notices Geralt standing in the doorway. She hates how easily he can sneak up on her.</p><p>She ignores the warning in his voice. Like growling at her has ever worked out for him. “Mages are the same as everyone else, princess. Humans, elves, even witchers. You can trust some of them. Some, you can only truly count on if you have something they want. Others, you should run away from.”</p><p>“Which kind are you?”</p><p>“That depends on who you ask, Your Highness.”</p><p>“I’m asking you.”</p><p>Yennefer’s lips twitch. She remembers when Geralt came to her after claiming the Law of Surprise in Cintra, distraught. She remembers the swell of hope she felt at the chance for a family, dashed when Geralt told her he would never claim the child that destiny had granted. She was so angry at him that they didn’t talk for months. “You can trust me. I’m bound to Geralt by destiny, just like you.”</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Geralt stiffen. Good.</p><p>Ciri looks like she has questions, but she must notice Geralt’s sudden tenseness, because she says nothing. By the time Yennefer finishes healing the princess’ feet, Dara is already asleep in his bed, hat and boots still on. The poor boy must have been exhausted. Ciri looks equally weary; there are dark shadows under her eyes and her face is more haggard than any twelve-year-old’s should be.</p><p>“I can help you sleep too,” Yennefer tells her. “And it would be dreamless.”</p><p>Ciri’s expression becomes guarded.</p><p>“You’re safe here,” Yennefer says, trying for a reassuring smile. “You’ll sleep until morning and wake up feeling refreshed. No tricks, no side effects. I promise.”</p><p>Ciri looks back to Geralt. When he nods, she mutters her consent. Yennefer waits until the girl is tucked into bed, then places her hand against the girl’s forehead. Ciri drops to sleep in an instant.</p><p>“Thank you,” Geralt says softly as Yennefer stands. He takes a step backwards into the hallway and she follows him, pulling the door closed behind her.</p><p>“You’re really going to go to Sodden Hill?” he asks.</p><p>She frowns at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>He shrugs. “You’re not a soldier, Yenn.”</p><p>“Maybe not, but I am a mage. I’ve seen battle before.”</p><p>“Not like this. Nilfgaard doesn’t show mercy.”</p><p>Yennefer smiles without humor. “Neither do I.”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t return her smile. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”</p><p>She decides to ignore that. “You should come help. We’re vastly outnumbered until the Temerian forces arrive. We need all the help we can get.”</p><p>He shakes his head. “I can’t leave Ciri and Jaskier. And I don’t get involved in the conflicts of men, Yennefer.”</p><p>Yennefer almost laughs. They’re standing here because Geralt can never help but get involved in the conflicts of men. “Except for when you do?”</p><p>“You don’t have to go.” He reaches out, like he’s going to touch her, but thinks better of it and lets his hand fall to his side. “I could use the help getting Ciri and Jaskier somewhere safe.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “I’m not your nursemaid, Geralt. Someone has to stop Nilfgaard from advancing into Sodden, or all the Northern Kingdoms will fall. It’s all well and good to keep one lost princess safe, but there are tens of thousands of people in Nilfgaard’s path who aren’t bound to witchers by the law of surprise.”</p><p>Geralt opens his mouth, then closes it. “Be well, Yennefer. And thank you.”</p><p>Yennefer has so much she would like to say to him, a decade’s worth of hurt and anger and loneliness that she could spew at him, but she’s tired. It’s been a long, exhausting day and she knows she has a long night ahead of her. “Keep better care of your strays from here on out, Geralt.”</p><p>He looks like he has something to say to that, but she portals away before she can hear it.</p><p>***</p><p>Later that night, she sits surrounded by her fellow mages at Sodden Hill, contemplating the battle ahead of her and the inevitability of her demise. When Tissaia tells her, “You have so much more to give,” Yennefer can’t think of a single thing to say in reply. She doesn’t feel like she has anything else to give. She is tired of waiting, of wanting, of grasping for things she can’t have. She achieved everything she had ever wanted— beauty, power, respect— and she’s still not happy. She’s starting to think that nothing can make her happy, not even if she found a way to regain her womb.</p><p>But once the battle starts, there’s no time for existential dread or loneliness. There’s only fighting and killing Nilfgaardians while she watches her friends die around her.</p><p>And then eventually, she’s one of the few left standing. Sabrina is on the ground, spine broken. Triss is burned and bloody, her thin cries of pain audible throughout the ruined keep. Vilgefortz is nowhere to be found, most likely dead. Tissaia is weakened by dimeritium, looking as shattered as Yennefer feels.</p><p>
  <em>“You have so much more to give.”</em>
</p><p>As Yennefer stands there and watches the wall of Nilfgaardian troops advance, she sees Geralt and his bard in the distance, the bard struggling to keep Geralt on his feet. Across the sea of soldiers, she meets Geralt’s eyes, sees the exhaustion and the resignation in them. She watches as he tries to curl himself around his bard, like he can protect Jaskier from an entire fucking army.</p><p>It reminds her of the way he curled around her in that house in Rinde as she portaled them to safety.</p><p>When she lets her chaos explode and floods the battlefield with flames, swallowing up the Nilfgaardian forces in a wall of fire, she just has enough control to spare Tissaia and Geralt. She feels like she’s being torn apart. Someone is screaming; it takes her a long time to realize it’s her.</p><p>Yennefer never remembers making the conscious decision to portal away. She’s only vaguely aware of a young girl’s voice, an icy cold hand in hers, the softness of sheets being tucked around her.</p><p>Then nothing.</p><p>***</p><p>When Yennefer wakes up, she’s lying in a narrow bed in a sunlit room and Tissaia is sitting by her bedside. For a moment, she’s confused— this isn’t Aretuza— before she recognizes the small room where Ciri and Dara slept the other night.</p><p>“Good, you’re awake,” Tissaia says briskly.</p><p>Yennefer blinks up at the other sorceress. “How long?” It feels like she’s been asleep for days. Her head aches and her eyes are sore.</p><p>Tissaia’s expression softens. “Only since last night. You saved us all, Yennefer.”</p><p>Yennefer closes her eyes as the memories of the night before come back to her. Coral’s bloodied corpse. Sabrina lying helpless and broken on the ground. Triss’s gasps of pain. All those dead villagers lying in the rubble of the keep. “Not all of us.”</p><p>“Triss and Sabrina both live,” Tissaia says quietly. Yennefer lets out a strangled noise of relief. “Vilgefortz too. Nilfgaard didn’t take Sodden because of you. For now, the Northern Kingdoms are safe.”</p><p>“Fringilla?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. I lost track of her after she ambushed me with dimeritium.” Tissaia smooths down her skirts, like she’s trying to smooth away the unpleasant memory.</p><p>Yennefer takes a deep breath. “And Geralt?”</p><p>Her voice gives away too many emotions, but Tissaia’s expression doesn’t change. “Sleeping in the other room. He’s a witcher. He’ll heal from his wounds on his own. It just may take him a day or two. His bard and the children are also unharmed.”</p><p>Yennefer nods.</p><p>“There’s a reason I taught you girls to bottle up your chaos,” Tissaia says. “Because when you let it all out like you did last night, the results can be unpredictable.”</p><p>“Like me incinerating thousands of Nilfgaardian troops?” Yennefer asks dryly.</p><p>“At best it was hundreds, Yennefer. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”</p><p>“Words of encouragement as always, rectoress.”</p><p>Tissaia’s expression holds no mirth. “When I healed you from the brink of death— and don’t give me that look, you were on the brink of death— your magic didn’t feel right. It’s shifted somehow. You should be very cautious when using your powers for the foreseeable future.”</p><p>Yennefer tries to sit up, but her head swims and she’s forced to sag back against the pillows. “What do you mean, it doesn’t feel right?”</p><p>“You overexerted yourself. After decades of bottling your chaos up, you let it explode.”</p><p>“Like you told me to!”</p><p>“And you did magnificently. But it was still too much. I fear it’s affected your powers.”</p><p>There’s a candle on Yennefer’s bedside table. She focuses on it, intending to levitate it. For a moment, nothing happens, and then the candle twists and warps, becoming nothing but a useless ball of wax. Yennefer sags back against the pillow, breathing hard. Something inside her feels wrong. She can feel the wrongness in every thrum of her heartbeat and every breath. It’s like her chaos is disconnected from her, still in her blood and her bones, but lingering just out of her reach.</p><p>“Fuck,” she breathes.</p><p>“As I was saying.” Tissaia lifts an eyebrow. The <em>“before you interrupted me”</em> remains unspoken. “It may be some time before your magic returns to its previous strength. I would normally say weeks, but I’ve never seen anything like what you did at Sodden Hill. It could be months. Could be years. Could be never.”</p><p>Yennefer clenches the sheets in her fists, refusing to let the panic show in her face.</p><p>“Come back to Aretuza with me,” Tissaia says. “We can keep you safe there until you heal.”</p><p>“I don’t need to be kept safe.”</p><p>“Yennefer.” Tissaia lets out a long sigh. “You killed hundreds of Nilfgaardian soldiers. That’s not something you can do without catching the notice of powerful people who will either want to use your power or do you harm. I would be surprised if there’s not already a price on your head. You need to lie low.”</p><p>“I’m not coming back to Aretuza.” Yennefer hasn’t stepped foot on the Isle of Thanedd since her graduation, and she has no intention of changing that.</p><p>“Yennefer, this is not the time for stubbornness.”</p><p>“If Nilfgaard wants to come for me, let them. But I will not cower behind your skirts like a child.”</p><p>“Pride won’t keep you safe in the end,” Tissaia says flatly. “Though I’m sure the fact that you didn’t cower behind my skirts will be a comfort when Fringilla finds you.”</p><p>Yennefer has nothing to say to that.</p><p>“This is about him, isn’t it?” Tissaia asks.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“You’ve been portaling around Cintra and Sodden for weeks, hunting for your witcher. And now you’ve found him, you’re not ready to walk away from him. Don’t do this to yourself again, Yennefer.”</p><p>Yennefer refuses to blush and look away like a schoolgirl. She meets the rectoress’s eyes with cool indifference. “He was going to get himself killed.”</p><p>“And that’s your responsibility?”</p><p>“We’re bound by the djinn wish. I don’t know what would happen to me if he died.” Yennefer doesn’t think their lives are bound together, per say, but she can all too clearly imagine herself cursed to pine and mourn for Geralt for the rest of her existence, like a maiden in a tragic love song. “I need to stay until I’m sure he’ll wake up. I won’t… I can’t just leave. Once he wakes up, I’ll think about coming to Aretuza.”</p><p>She knows that if she leaves without knowing for sure if Geralt is okay, it will eat at her. Wondering if he lived will keep her up at night. She won’t allow Geralt of fucking Rivia to haunt her thoughts for any longer.</p><p>Tissaia nods, though her lips are pressed together in a look of disapproval that Yennefer is intimately familiar with. “I’ll be back in three days to fetch you.”</p><p>“Three days is fine.”</p><p>Tissaia rises to her feet and looks down at Yennefer with a tired expression. “Just be careful, Yennefer. Don’t do this to yourself again. Don’t let that witcher hurt you more than he already has.”</p><p>***</p><p>After Tissaia leaves, Yennefer must fall back asleep, because the next time she opens her eyes, it’s after dark. Her eyes are crusty and the inside of her mouth tastes terrible. Normally, she would be able to take care of both problems with minimal magical effort, but a glance at the warped candle on the bedside table reminds her why that’s not a wise idea. With a groan, she pushes herself to her feet, only wobbling a bit. There’s a looking glass on the wall and she takes a moment to wipe the crust from the corners of her eye and fix her hair before she steps out of the bedroom.</p><p>She opens the door of the other bedroom to see Geralt lying in the bed on his back, expression peaceful and chest gently rising and falling. She doesn’t allow herself to linger. She pulls the door closed and heads downstairs, where she smells roasting meat and hears the cheerful sound of a lute playing, accompanied by a surprisingly lovely voice. She finds Dara and Ciri sitting in front of the hearth, watching as Jaskier sings a song that Yennefer is fairly certain is highly inappropriate for children. When he catches sight of Yennefer, his voice falters.</p><p>“Should you be singing about your horn rising in the morn in front of a princess?” Yennefer is moderately appalled by how prissy and downright Tissaia-like her voice sounds.</p><p>She receives three identical looks of wide-eyed innocence in response. Jaskier clears his throat. “It’s Ciri’s favorite song.”</p><p>Yennefer crosses her arms over her chest. “And if her favorite drink was arsenic, would you let her drink that?”</p><p>Ciri wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’d like arsenic.”</p><p>“I should hope not,” Yennefer says.</p><p>Jaskier blinks at her. “The horn is a metaphor…”</p><p>“I know what the horn is a metaphor for, bardling.”</p><p>“Yes, well, how about a ballad while you eat?” He smiles winningly at her, like they’re old friends. “So glad to see you awake, Yennefer. We were starting to worry. Dara caught us some squirrels for supper. It’s not much, but we didn’t want to raid this family’s food stores more than we have to. Ciri, make Yennefer a plate, will you?”</p><p>Yennefer expects the little princess to imperiously remind him that she is in fact a princess, but instead she goes to prepare a plate of food.</p><p>“Geralt hasn’t woken up yet,” Jaskier continues. “He seems better than he did last night, though it’s hard to tell when he’s not conscious. Oh, how rude, I realize we were never properly introduced. I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you can call me Jaskier.”</p><p>Yennefer lowers herself into a stool as Ciri sets a plate of questionable-looking roasted meat and potatoes in front of her. The dull ache behind her eyes has returned. “Bard?”</p><p>“It’s Jaskier,” he says helpfully, hoisting his lute in his arms.</p><p>“Start singing again, <em>bard</em>, and there will be no horn to rise in the morn ever again.”</p><p>Jaskier puts his lute down quickly. Satisfied, Yennefer goes to eat her squirrel.</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer spends most of the next day dozing off and on. She’s exhausted in a way she can never remember being before. Even the quick walk across the room to use the chamberpot or downstairs to get herself something to eat leaves her shaky and breathless. Jaskier’s chatter and music fills the house. Every time she opens her eyes, she can hear him, giggling with Ciri or Dara like he’s as much of a child as they are, singing songs of varying levels of inappropriateness, or talking cheerfully to Geralt’s unconscious form. When Yennefer wakes up long enough to suggest that his chattering might be why Geralt is still unconscious, Jaskier is so offended, he doesn’t say a word for nearly ten minutes.</p><p>It’s a very pleasant ten minutes.</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer has never been the jealous type. She’s never seen the point. In the five years she was with Geralt, they would often go months without seeing each other at a time and it was understood that they would occasionally find pleasure in other people’s beds. Geralt would stop at brothels in between slaying monsters and Yennefer had a rotation of casual, mutually beneficial arrangements. As long as there were no secrets between them, they were both content. Geralt even joined in on some of her mutually beneficial arrangements when he was in town; Yennefer still thinks fondly of the lovely three days they spent in Vizima with Triss.</p><p>So Yennefer is not jealous of Jaskier. She just finds him fucking annoying. He’s loud. He’s bright. He’s cheerful. Whenever Yennefer threatens him, trepidation only seems to last until a new thought pops into his head that must be vocalized at that exact moment. He never stops moving. By the third day after Sodden Hill, Yennefer is feeling mostly like herself again, but his constant jabbering and flitting about leaves her tired and cranky.</p><p>It’s been raining off and on all day, leaving the wood Jaskier is trying to use as kindling in the hearth damp and uncooperative. His attempts have been unnecessarily dramatic, filled with loud sighs, declarations that they will need to eat the rabbit Dara caught for supper raw, and quips about soggy wood. It sets Yennefer’s teeth on edge.</p><p>Finally, she can’t take it anymore. Without thinking, she flicks her fingers to light the hearth. The resultant explosion of smoke and flames sends the bard stumbling backwards with a shriek. Ciri acts immediately, seizing the bard’s cloak, which is draped over the back of one of the chairs, and using it to smother the flames. Smoke has already filled the small room, choking them, and Dara hurries to open the door.</p><p>The bard turns to Yennefer, eyes watering and face flushed from the heat. “What the fuck was that?”</p><p>Yennefer doesn’t answer. She stalks out into the misty, cool evening, not knowing where she’s going, but knowing that she needs to be out of this house. She goes to the paddock and leans against the fence, watching Roach graze. The horse only twitches her ears at Yennefer’s approach, which is just as well. Roach has never particularly cared for people and Yennefer has never particularly cared for horses. They’re kindred spirits in that way.</p><p>“Geralt has a type,” she tells Roach, and then realizes she’s talking to a horse out loud and snaps her mouth shut. When Tissaia comes tomorrow to bring her back to Aretuza, Yennefer will go with the rectoress. She needs to get away from here, if she’s started talking to horses.</p><p>Footsteps crunch in the frozen grass and she looks around to see Ciri approaching, wrapped up in a woolen cloak that is far too large for her and drags behind her on the ground. The girl comes to lean on the fence next to Yennefer. Roach immediately trots over to greet Ciri, shoving her nose in the girl’s face. Ciri giggles.</p><p>“Careful of your fingers,” Yennefer says. “If that’s the same Roach I knew, she bites.”</p><p>“She seems to like me.” Ciri’s smile dims as she turns to look at Yennefer. “I lose control sometimes too.”</p><p>Yennefer wonders if this is what her life has come to, being reassured about her faulty magic by a twelve-year-old. “Do you?”</p><p>Ciri nods. “When I scream, I can’t control what happens. Like in the woods, I was just trying to hurt the doppler, but I knocked Jaskier and Dara down too. I could have killed Jaskier.”</p><p>“That wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“Then who’s fault was it?”</p><p><em>“Your grandmother’s for not having you trained properly,”</em> Yennefer doesn’t say, though she dearly wants to. “Things aren’t always someone’s fault. Sometimes, things are just shit.”</p><p>Ciri giggles again and the sound brings a smile to Yennefer’s lips. She looks down at this strange little princess and feels a surge of loss. Because this child could have been hers. If Geralt hadn’t been so stubborn and Calanthe hadn’t been so stupid, Ciri would have been raised by someone who understood the chaos within her. Yennefer could have helped her. Yennefer could have kept her safe from Nilfgaard and anyone else who wanted to use her.</p><p>“What does it feel like when you start screaming?” Yennefer asks.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Ciri is focused on the horse now, not looking at Yennefer. “Sometimes it feels like there’s something else inside of me that’s doing the screaming. I never feel in control of it. I see things too, sometimes. Awful things.”</p><p>Yennefer thinks of the pure chaos she felt when she heard Ciri scream.</p><p>“Geralt said he can teach me control,” Ciri says.</p><p>Yennefer just manages not to snort derisively. Geralt can teach this child many things, but controlling chaos isn’t one of them. Most likely, he intended to ask her for help, or maybe Triss. He wouldn’t trust any other mages.</p><p>“Or are you going to teach me?” Ciri asks.</p><p>When Yennefer looks down at the princess, Ciri is watching her with hopeful eyes. Yennefer feels something in her chest turn over. “Is that something you would want?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ciri says. “Jaskier said that you saved Sodden, that you took out Nilfgaard’s army by yourself. I want to be able to do that. If I’d been able to do that in Cintra…” She stops, face contorting in sudden grief.</p><p>Yennefer waits until the girl has composed herself before she says, “You couldn’t have stopped what happened in Cintra.”</p><p>“But if I had—”</p><p>“No. Cintra was inevitable.”</p><p>“Why?” Ciri turns her face away.</p><p>Yennefer pretends she doesn’t see the girl wiping her eyes. “Because destiny didn’t get what it wanted, and when you fuck with destiny, it fucks you right back.”</p><p>“So all those people had to die because my grandmother wouldn’t give me to Geralt?” Ciri asks in a choked voice. “That’s <em>bullshit.</em>”</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Yennefer says calmly.</p><p>When Ciri looks at her, her eyes are blazing. “So teach me how to stop it from happening again.”</p><p>Yennefer’s own powers may be fucked, which will make it challenging to teach Ciri how to control her chaos, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try. “What do you know about chaos?”</p><p>***</p><p>Yennefer hears Geralt wake in the night. She hears the high lilting of Jaskier’s voice through the wall, followed by the deep rumble of Geralt’s. For a moment, she listens for any signs of distress, but when there are no sounds from the other room, she falls into an uneasy sleep.</p><p>Geralt finds her standing outside the next morning. When he asks her to come to Kaer Morhen, she already knows what her answer will be, but she refuses to make it easy for him. “I already told you, I’m not a damn nursemaid.”</p><p>“Then don’t come as my nursemaid. Come as my friend.”</p><p>Friend. The word is clearly meant as a peace offering, but it feels like a slap. After everything, they’re <em>friends.</em> “Is that what we are now?”</p><p>“You’re still important to me, Yennefer,” he says, so earnest that it hurts. “You always would be. I would like us to be friends.”</p><p>It’s so unlike Geralt to not only verbalize what he’s feeling, but also what he wants, that Yennefer can’t help but feel like this is Jaskier’s influence. She shakes her head. “Gods, he really has made you soft. I should come with you, in case you’re so busy swooning like a maiden that you get yourself eaten by a bruxa.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he says.</p><p>Yennefer hesitates, then says, “You’re important to me too, Geralt.”</p><p>“Hm,” is all he says, though he can’t hide his pleased smile.</p><p>She doesn’t want it to be the truth, but it is. Yennefer may be staying for Ciri, because the girl needs guidance, but Geralt matters to her. She wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. Yennefer doesn’t want him to matter. She doesn’t want her heartbeat to kick up at the sight of his smile— a real smile with teeth, a rarity for Geralt. She doesn’t want to care about what happens to him next, to worry about him wandering through the wilderness with nothing but a bard and two children for backup.</p><p>Someday, Yennefer will figure out a way to stop caring. She will. Just not today.</p><p>***</p><p>When Tissaia portals in later that day, she only has to take one look at Yennefer’s face before she says, “I see you’re not coming back to Aretuza.”</p><p>Yennefer stands with her arms folded over her chest and her spine straight, trying to project the air of a confident sorceress capable of making her own decisions and not the lovesick teenager that she’s sure the rectoress sees her as. “I’m needed here.”</p><p>“The witcher—”</p><p>“It has nothing to do with Geralt,” Yennefer says.</p><p>Tissaia makes a noise that would be called a snort from a less dignified woman. “Of course it doesn’t.”</p><p>Yennefer bristles. “I’m needed here. And not by Geralt.”</p><p>“By the Cintran princess?” At Yennefer’s surprised look, Tissaia rolls her eyes. “The witcher who infamously claimed the Law of Surprise in Cintra is now hiding out in Sodden with a mysterious little girl who’s about Cirilla’s age. It isn’t hard to put two and two together. Even that imbecile, Stregobor, could do it.”</p><p>“No one can know about her.”</p><p>Tissaia’s expression softens. “Of course not. I’m not planning on telling anyone.”</p><p>Yennefer lowers her voice. “She has abilities. She needs to be trained.”</p><p>“Then she should come to Aretuza.”</p><p>“You know she can’t come to Aretuza. It won’t be safe for her there.”</p><p>“She’ll have the Brotherhood to protect her.”</p><p>“The Brotherhood won’t protect her from shit,” Yennefer snaps. “Nilfgaard expected mages at Sodden Hill, Tissaia. As far as Fringilla knew, the Brotherhood had voted against interfering with Nilfgaard’s plans. She had no reason to expect we would be there, unless someone tipped them off.”</p><p>To her credit, Tissaia doesn’t bother wasting their time protesting that there couldn’t possibly be a traitor in the Brotherhood.</p><p>“Even if I’m wrong and there aren't Nilfgaardian spies in the Brotherhoods’ ranks, she’s the last remaining Cintran royal,” Yennefer continues. “There are too many mages in the Brotherhood who have served their courts too long. They’ll want to use her for political gain. I won’t let that happen.”</p><p>“With your powers depleted, you won’t be much use for defending her.”</p><p>“I’m better than nothing. Her powers are pure chaos. I’ve never seen anything like it. She needs to learn how to control it and since I can’t bring her to you, I’m the next best thing.”</p><p>To Yennefer’s surprise, Tissaia’s lips curl up into a downright mischievous smile.</p><p>“What’s so amusing about this?” Yennefer demands, hating how childish she sounds. Five minutes in Tissaia’s company, and she’s a teenager again.</p><p>“Of all my pupils, you are the last one I expected to end up training the next generation of mages.”</p><p>“Not the next generation. Just one girl.” One very powerful girl.</p><p>“She’s in good hands.”</p><p>Yennefer just stares at her, rendered speechless. That was the last thing she expected Tissaia to say.</p><p>Tissaia reaches into her skirts and pulls out a xenovox. “If you’re going to be traveling through the wilderness with nothing but a weakened witcher, a bard, and two children for company, take this.”</p><p>Yennefer runs her thumb over the smooth, warm metal. “You knew I wasn’t coming with you.”</p><p>“I’ve known you since you were fourteen. You make a big show out of only doing things for your own self-interest, but it never seems to work out that way, does it?”</p><p>Yennefer doesn't know what to say to that, so she stays silent, tucking the xenovox into her own skirts.</p><p>“You call me if you need help,” Tissaia says. “I’ll have my xenovox on me at all times. I will hear you if you call and I will come to you, wherever you are.”</p><p>Yennefer is surprised by the lump of emotion that forms in her throat. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Take care of yourself, Yennefer. And take care of the girl.”</p><p>Yennefer glances towards the house. Inside, she can hear a lute playing. “I will.”</p><p>There’s nothing else to be said. With a small smile, Tissaia reaches out to squeeze Yennefer’s hand briefly, before opening a portal and stepping through it. After she vanishes, Yennefer stands there for a long moment, staring into the space where the rectoress was just standing. From inside the house, the lute music becomes peppier and there’s a peel of laughter from Ciri. Yennefer feels the corners of her lips twitch upwards.</p><p>She goes inside to join the others.</p><p>***</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I hope it was worth the wait and that you'll stick around for the sequel! </p><p>I can be found on Tumblr <a href="https://ghostinthelibrarywrites.tumblr.com/">here</a> or on Discord at ghostinthelibrary#1691.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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